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Chapter 10: Potions Class
🕑 Added 2025-10-31 01:32:36 +0000 UTCChapter 10: Potions Class
The first messenger owl of the day took flight from the Owlery just as the first rays of orange sunlight touched the highest spire of Hogwarts Castle.
The corridors were once again bustling with activity as a large group of first-years made their way down the grand staircase toward the dungeons.
"I hear our Potions Master is Professor Snape," Michael said, rubbing his sleepy eyes. He had stayed up late the previous night studying the mechanics of a self-inking quill and was still yawning. "A little birdie in the Ravenclaw common room told me something. The upper-years say Professor Snape is the most…"
He paused for dramatic effect, and Terry, who was walking beside him, instinctively leaned closer, craning his neck. Even the whispers of the other students around them seemed to quieten in anticipation.
"He is the professor who deducts the most house points in all of Hogwarts."
Michael delivered the line with a theatrical tremor in his voice. Combined with the increasingly cold and gloomy surroundings of the dungeons, the effect was immediate. The faces of the young witches and wizards around him visibly paled.
Wrapped in this self-generated cloud of nervous tension, they arrived at the Potions classroom.
It was a vast, cold chamber, several degrees colder than the castle above. Even during the day, very little sunlight penetrated the gloom, the only illumination coming from an array of floating candles. The walls were lined with glass jars, in which a grotesque variety of animal specimens floated in murky liquid.
Sean chose a seat not far from these jars, from which he had a clear view of a bat's spleen. He recognized it as an ingredient for the Swelling Solution. He had just settled in when a boy with a dimpled smile sat down next to him.
"Sean! I knew you'd be here early," Justin said, his face radiating a warmth that was entirely at odds with the chilly room. He began to neatly arrange his own set of glass phials on the desk.
Michael, who had been aiming for that very seat, stopped dead in his tracks and blinked. "Am I hallucinating?" he muttered under his breath. "When did he get here?" Grumbling, he slumped into a random empty seat nearby.
Soon, all the students had arrived. Whether it was due to the chilling atmosphere or the terrifying legends of Professor Snape, not a single one dared to speak above a whisper.
The silence was shattered by a loud BANG.
The dungeon door flew open, and a man with a sallow face and a large, hooked nose swept into the room. His black robes billowed behind him like the wings of a great bat as he strode to the front of the classroom, his movements swift, precise, and final.
"There will be no foolish wand-waving or silly incantations in this class," he began, his voice a low, cold murmur that still managed to fill the entire room. "As such, I don't expect many of you to appreciate the subtle science and exact art that is potion-making. However, for those select few who possess the predisposition… I can teach you how to bewitch the mind and ensnare the senses. I can tell you how to bottle fame, brew glo1ry, and even put a stopper in death."
His dark eyes swept over the silent students. "That is, if you aren't as big a bunch of dunderheads as I usually have to teach."
His voice was a powerful, menacing drone that held the entire class captive.
"Abbott, Hannah! What is the proper procedure for dealing with slugs?" His sharp gaze landed on a small girl with pigtails, hitting her with the force of a physical blow.
The girl's voice trembled. "Y-you stew them, Professor."
Hannah had clearly read the textbook, and though it was only the first chapter, her diligence had saved her.
"Sit down," Snape sneered, his expression unchanging. "Green, Sean. Tell me, what would you do with horned slugs?" He leaned forward slightly, his form eclipsing the candlelight.
"Stew them for a longer period of time," Sean replied instantly. "Approximately three minutes, Professor."
"Acceptable," Snape hissed, his attention immediately snapping away. "Hopkins, Wayne! What is a bezoar?"
He loomed over Wayne like a dark cloud. The short-haired boy's voice was a strained squeak. "I don't know, Professor."
"Then you will be interested to know, if that troll-sized brain of yours can retain the information, that a bezoar is a stone taken from the stomach of a goat and it will save you from most poisons." Snape's deathly glare remained fixed on Wayne, who was now visibly shaking. "Sit down. One point from Hufflepuff for your classmate's vacant skull."
He scanned the rest of the class. No one dared to meet his eye. "And why are the rest of you not writing this down?"
A frantic scratching of quills filled the oppressive silence, as if the students believed the simple act of writing could shield them from Snape's tempestuous wrath. But his roll call of doom continued.
"Macmillan, Ernie!"
He was a ruthless, point-deducting machine. By the time the interrogation was over, Ravenclaw had lost six points, and Hufflepuff was down a staggering twelve.
A cynical thought crossed Sean's mind: Slytherin's six-year winning streak in the House Cup probably has a lot to do with Professor Snape's tireless efforts. He remembered reading that Snape had memorized every student's name, the better to deduct points from them with ruthless efficiency.
Snape's next words, however, commanded Sean's complete and undivided attention.
"Listen closely. If any of you dare to alter the potion's formula or add or subtract steps of your own accord—" His menacing gaze swept over each and every face, ensuring that no one's attention would stray for even a second.
He then began to demonstrate the steps for a Boil-Cure Potion, a simple remedy for boils. The cauldron before him began to steam, and within a few short minutes, it was bubbling with a thick, dark green liquid.
"I do not expect any of you to succeed on your first attempt. I merely hope that certain idiots do not create a catastrophe. What are you waiting for? In pairs, begin."
Justin's face was pale, but he forced himself to begin, following the instructions with painstaking care. Sean wasn't in much better shape. It wasn't Snape's oppressive presence that worried him, but the complete unknown of his own aptitude for Potions.
"Slugs… dried nettles… crushed snake fangs… porcupine quills…" Justin laid out the ingredients, his voice still shaky. "Sean, this is everything, right?" He looked to Sean for confirmation, and seeing the other boy's calm and focused expression, he felt his own nerves begin to settle.
"Yes," Sean nodded, already beginning to process the ingredients according to the textbook. "Let's follow the steps exactly. We'll start with the slugs."
Justin understood immediately and began to light a fire under their cauldron. The book said it needed to be pre-heated.
"Should we use my cauldron?" Justin asked quietly.
Sean glanced at Justin's gleaming silver cauldron and nodded. The quality of the cauldron wouldn't dramatically alter the final product, but Justin's was certainly a significant improvement over the third-tier brass one that Sean had scraped together the Galleons to buy. It might even provide a small boost to their success rate, even if it was only a psychological one.
It's actually quite useful, having a secret millionaire for a deskmate, Sean thought.
Comments
Dev Nishad
I just checked i can't find this in webnovel did he delete that?
Austin
Oof well just letting u know if you only had a few translated
Dev Nishad
What i have like 96 chapter that's i translated.
Austin
MeowthTL has 40 some chapters of this just fyi
